


Four Fold Moon

by JoAryn



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-05
Updated: 2012-09-05
Packaged: 2017-11-13 15:43:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/505097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoAryn/pseuds/JoAryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Secret Summer 2012 - An away mission results in some peculiar behavior and activities . . .</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four Fold Moon

**Author's Note:**

> For Secret Summer 2012; my request from quantumsilver was “Janeway and Chakotay doing it in the brig with Tom standing guard.” Any rating, no fluff. 
> 
> My apologies for any glaring mistakes. I did my best to edit myself but ran out of time to find a beta. The title is a reference to Tlazolteotl, the Aztec goddess of 'guilty pleasures.' Also, I do not own Janeway, Chakotay, or any other featured, mentioned, or inferred characters from the Star Trek franchise. I make no money from my fanfic, just, hopefully, a few friends.

A Four Fold Moon  
By JoAryn

It should have been a routine mission. Voyager was low on supplies, though not so low that they couldn't have have continued looking for another likely planet had it been deemed necessary. The fourth planet of the system was decidedly M-class with approximately 73% of its surface covered by water and the land masses split into 3 continents of various sizes, each with areas of lush plant-life. Sensors indicated no sentient lifeforms. The only drawback was the slight ionization of the atmosphere that made the use of transporters unreliable. 

As a result, the away team traveled to the surface by shuttle craft. The six person team was joined by four dedicated security personnel should any of the animal life prove aggressive. They landed in a scrubby grassland that bounded a lightly forested slope on one side and river on the other. Neelix immediately headed off toward the river with Paris and two of the security officers while Chakotay's part of the team headed toward the hills. 

They had found a number of edible roots, none of which looked like the dreaded leola, before they even reached the first of the trees. Andrews, Jor and Golwat remained on the plain to harvest these while Chakotay and Tabor continued up the slope in hopes of finding fruits and nuts to round out their food supplies. Tabor was the first to spot the lumpy green-brown orbs that nestled in the forks of the branches of some of the trees. The fruits scanned as very similar to apples or quinces so they set up a large bin in between a few of the trees and began picking. Tuvok stood guard. 

They'd managed to accumulate a couple bushels and had begun ranging further into trees when it happened. Tabor had just reached for yet another of what he'd decided to call 'quipples' when there was an unearthly screech and something big and furry crashed into him from above. He had an impression of large opalescent eyes and a mouth full of what seemed to be very large teeth as he was forced to the ground. He screamed as fire bit into his side. 

He'd barely brought his hands up to defend against the attacker when there was a flash of red light, a scream of pain and the weight of whatever it had been was knocked to the side. He rolled, clutching his side and saw a montage of red, black and mottled brown. After several moments, red and black separated itself from dingy fur. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tuvok approach with phaser at the ready. Chakotay had managed to gain his feet, looking the worse for wear but managed to wave off the Vulcan. 

Tabor closed his eyes as a fresh wave of pain radiated from his side. He panted through the pain before opening his eyes to find Chakotay crouched over him. 

“Tabor? How do you feel?” 

He lay as still as possible and tried to catalog the hurts. “Worst are my ribs, Commander. I think I busted a few.” There was an ache in his shoulder, too, but the stabbing pains from his side were infinitely worse. 

“Alright, Tabor. We've contacted the ship but they don't want to transport you unless absolutely necessary. How much to you want to be in sickbay?” 

As he focussed on the pain, it seemed to recede a bit and he started to push himself upright. “Can't say that it's my last choice of destination, sir, but I'll be fine travelling by shuttle.”

“Good man.” Chakotay offered his hand and Tabor readily accepted the assistance.

He got to his feet gingerly, bracing his ribs as much as possible. “What was that thing?” He glanced toward the pile of fur and did a double take as he realized it was gone. Chakotay guided him away from the tree. 

“Native fauna,” the first officer reached up and pushed aside a branch. An agitated clicking sounded from above and Chakotay let the branch go. “I think you got too close to one of its young. Let's go.”

Stopping only to tag the cargo container of 'quipples', the trio made their way back down the slope to the plain. The root gatherers were just closing up their own cargo container. As soon as they were close enough for Tabor's labored progress to be obvious, Jor hurried toward them. She relieved Chakotay as his support. 

Two hours later, they were back on the ship and the foodstuffs they'd collected were stored in the cargo bay. The captain had met them in sickbay for debriefing. That was when things had started to go pear-shaped.

Chakotay had been briefing Janeway on the attack while the Doctor treated Tabor and Paris ran through the standard after-mission exams for the rest of the group. Suddenly, Tabor had launched himself off the bio bed at Tuvok, ranting about betrayal and deceit. The Bajoran ensign had been quickly subdued by the Vulcan security officer and then sedated. 

Subsequent scans had revealed a chemical imbalance in Tabor's brain. The rest of the away team, and in particular Chakotay and Tuvok, had been examined but their scans showed no anomalous results. The Doctor had reluctantly cleared them for duty. 

A half-hour later, Chakotay had been forcibly returned to sickbay after exhibiting 'abnormally aggressive' behavior. The Doctor had quickly ascertained that the Commander now exhibited the same imbalance that was afflicting Tabor. Unfortunately, the two afflicted men had reacted badly and the EMH had reluctantly had the first officer removed to the brig under Paris' observation.

\------------------------------------

Chakotay prowled the limited confines of the cell, restless and agitated. He'd tested his confines and knew three of the walls were immovable. The fourth, though . . . He rushed the blank opening, then fell back with a startled yelp as the energy barrier bit at his skin. He retreated to the bench at the back and perched there, glowering.

"Hey, big guy." Tom Paris stepped into view beyond the force field, frowning. "You've gotta stop doing that." He eyed the reddened skin on Chakotay's arm. The commander had long since shed his jacket and turtle neck - they lay in a puddle of red, black and gray fabric in a corner of the brig. "You're going to hurt yourself and I won't be able to do anything about it til the next time the Doc comes around." 

Chakotay hunched menacingly and snarled but made no move toward the pilot. 

"Yeah, I know you don't like me. Don't worry, I'm not coming in there unless I absolutely have to. Hopefully Doc'll find a treatment soon, huh?" Paris looked compassionately at the older man, wondering if Chakotay was aware of his condition. The aggressive, violent man in the brig was nearly the antithesis of the thoughtful and understated first officer most of the crew knew.

Tom did another quick visual assessment of Chakotay's health before returning to the security console and logging his observations for the doctor. He added a note about superficial burns from charging the force field to a report that already suspected fractures in the proximal phalanges of the superior dexter extremity – in other words, Chakotay had punched the bulkhead with his right hand about two hours ago and the hand was now nearly twice its normal size with deep purple bruising -- along with various bruises and contusions.

All the injuries were minor and normally would have taken moments to repair but Tom would have had to get close to Chakotay for that to happen. They'd tried sedatives and even an anesthetizing gas but unlike Tabor, nothing had subdued the Commander for more than a couple minutes, even at dangerously high doses. He really hoped the Doctor came up with an antidote soon. He sat wearily on the chair he'd commandeered from the mess hall when the order to report had come through. 

He'd barely settled in when the doors of the brig swished open. He jumped to his feet, fumbling his PADD as he did so. "Captain!" He glanced nervously toward the cell, wondering how Chakotay would react. Tom wouldn't be surprised in the least if the big guy charged the force field again. "I don't think you should be here. We're keeping him as safe as possible; it would be better if he wasn't, uh, agitated." 

\--------------------

Janeway looked around, slightly confused. She heard someone talking to her but the words weren't making any sense. She needed to find Him. He'd been taken away and she had to find Him. He was nearby, she was sure of it. She took a step forward and the blond man blocked her. The man was talking again. 

She shook her head, not sure if she was denying the pilot cum medic's intent or trying to organize her thoughts. She tried to take another step but a hand against her chest prevented her from moving. Anger flashed through her. How dare he prevent her from finding Him? She glared. 

Her opponent fell back marginally but his hand still stayed her progress. Her hand fumbled at her hip, closed around something hard and unyielding. She brought her hand up. There was a flash of light and the hand that had been stopping her was gone. 

Free to move at last, she surged forward. She turned and He was there. She move forward eagerly, stopping just before the threshold. He stood on the other side, watching her, his eyes dark and calm. She brought her hand up, jerking back slightly as the force field crackled and snapped as her sleeve brushed it. 

Frowning, she turned away, her eyes darting around the room for a way to remove this final impediment. She spied the consul and crossed to it. She frowned again but she reached out unerringly with her left hand and disengaged the force field It vanished with a slight sizzle and she returned to the cell. 

Chakotay was reaching a tentative hand toward the opening, his fingers hesitating as he expected to feel the sting and burn of the barrier. He'd nearly reached the boundary when she reappeared in front of him and stepped swiftly over the threshold. He retreated a step, wary. She'd been there when he was taken, watching as they'd wrestled him to the ground. She hadn't helped him then.

Her eyes locked on to his, her intense expression softening slightly. "I want you." Her voice was low, rough. She watched him for a moment, waiting. When he didn't react, she blew out a frustrated breath. They remained motionless for several seconds, tense, anxious to see what the other would do.

Finally, she'd had enough. With a growl, she launched herself at him, hands clawing for purchase on his shoulders. The thing that had been in her hand clattered to the floor as her fingers wove into his hair, pulling his head down to meet her demanding lips. 

He stumbled back with the impact, the low bench hitting behind his knees and he sat even as she continued to press her advantage. Her mouth opened, hungry and adamant as she teased his lips, nipping and then laving with her tongue. 

He growled as he responded, opening his mouth to hers. Her hands traced over his shoulders, nails biting slightly into the skin. His hands bunched in the fabric of her uniform momentarily before he tore it in two, rending jacket and turtle neck from hem to neck in one quick jerk. She gasped into his mouth, as the recycled air of the brig caressed her bare midriff. 

His hands swept up the expanse of flesh to grasp her breasts and he growled again in frustration as his fingers encountered her bra. This, too, he ripped asunder and together with her ruined jacket and shirt, he pushed it back over her shoulders and down her arms until it puddled on the floor. As the garments fell, he surged upward, pressing her back with his body, his kiss, his desire. 

She staggered backwards until she hit the bulkhead, never losing contact with his mouth. She moaned as he roughly fondled her breasts, his thumbs brushing over the turgid points before pinching them sharply, causing her to mewl in desire. Her hips rocked toward him, straining to complete the act despite their still clothed lower halves. Her hands raked down his back, nails furrowing his supple bronze flesh. She gripped his back and pulled him into her.

He grunted and tore his mouth from hers, his lips wandering across her jaw and down her neck. As the column of her neck faded into the slope of her shoulder, he bit down, earning a howl of protest and lust. His tongue laved over the mark as his hand skimmed down her sides. Encountering her trousers, he growled again, nipped at her shoulder. 

She panted and whimpered as he suckled her neck and struggled to free him from his pants. The fabric finally gave and she grinned in victory, taking the opportunity to sink her own teeth into his trapezius. She bucked harder, encouraging him to make short work of her own remaining clothing even as she pushed his slacks and shorts off his hips. 

He reacted to her wordless appeal with a strong, rutting thrust that made her squeal. His strong hands forced the trousers down past her hips, the fabric biting painfully into the flesh as the fasteners struggled to maintain their posts. With a final wrench the waistband passed her thighs and her pants joined his in pooling around their ankles. He drew back slightly, his eyes dark and glinting, a ferocious grin on his features. 

Her eyes met his, pupils dilated with desire and need. One of her hands threaded through his hair and brought his lips back to hers in a punishing kiss. The scent of their combined arousal swirled around them, leaving neither in doubt of the other's readiness. Strong fingers gripped her buttocks, shifting her up the wall. She felt them slick slightly where her need had spilled and she opened herself in anticipation. 

His nostrils flared as a fresh weft of her scent curled up from below. He growled and moved aggressively into their kiss, his eager erection rubbing against her mound. He bucked and she whimpered so he repeat the action, moving a bit harder. His hands shifted down to her thighs, spreading her wide and he paused a moment to inhale their combined aroma before driving himself home into her moist heat. 

They howled and no-one could have said if the sound was of pain or rapture. They stilled only momentarily, their bruising kiss gentling into to nips and sips. Then one of them moved, neither could have told who, and they were bucking, grinding and moaning as they mated.

\--------------------------

As the staccato moans grew louder, Tom stuck his fingers in his ears and started to hum.  He kept his eyes fixedly on the security console, not daring to look at the cells directly. He'd regained his faculties just after Janeway had entered the cell and had slapped the control to reinitialize the force field without thinking. As soon as it had snapped into place, he realized he probably should have tried to extricate the Captain but the opportunity was gone and the phaser she'd used to stun him was in the cell. 

He'd tried to hail the Doctor but the EMH had tersely closed the comm channel before Tom could even explain the problem. The pilot had tried contacting Tuvok, but Ayala had answered for security. Andrews and Culhane had also fallen ill and the entire away team was now quarantined. While the Vulcan security chief would have readily disregarded the current activities of the command team as the byproduct of the chemical imbalances, Tom wasn't sure everyone would be as discrete. 

As the 'activity' in the cell had increased, Tom had retreated from the computer console and stationed himself out of sight of the cell. Cognizant or not (he had his money firmly on 'not'), he really didn't want to have the image or sound of the Captain and the Commander going at it in his head. The subtle thumps from the other side of the bulkhead were bad enough.

Presently, he realized he hadn't felt any impacts through the bulkhead in several minutes and tentatively removed a finger from his ear. Silence. Even more hesitantly, he'd peeked around the corner and immediately wished he hadn't. The Captain was naked and intimately entwined with her equally bare first officer, sound asleep. He quickly adverted his gaze and tried to comm sickbay again. 

“Mr. Paris, I have already informed you that I would be down to check on the --.” The Doctor's typically condescending manner was in full force.

“I think you need to come down now.” Tom broke in. “The Captain's here.”

There was silence for a long moment from the comm line. Tom really hoped that the Doctor wasn't going to ask questions. “Very well.” Paris heaved a sigh of relief as the EMH signed off.

Risking another glance toward the cell, Tom decided that maybe meeting the Doctor outside was the better part of valor. He stepped out into the hallway just as the Doctor exited the turbolift. “Lieutenant, are you or are you not tasked with observing the Commander in his confinement?”

“Doc, there are some things that a guy was not meant to see.” 

The hologram frowned at him before stepping into the brig, then stopped immediately inside the doors. The Doctor made a sound somewhere between a sigh and a harrumph before turning back to his medic. “Please retrieve two blankets from the locker.”

Paris did as he was told, then lowered the force field at an impatient gesture from the Doc. 

The Doctor took a blanket and carefully spread it over the sleeping figures at the same time pressing a hypospray to each of their necks. “Help me separate them.”

Cringing, Tom entered the cell and reluctantly helped to untangle the limbs of the unconscious couple. “Will they remember this?”

“I doubt it. At present, they are essentially mindless apes in Janeway and Chakotay suits." Making sure the blankets were completely covering the two officers, he stood. “Site-to-site transport for 3 to sickbay.” 

Tom stepped back as the trio shimmered away. 

\-----------------------------

Two days later:

Captain Janeway was in her ready room, reading reports when the door chime sounded. She looked up, the barest hint of a smile twisting her lips. “Come.” She knew it would be her first officer, come to check up on her. Her smile widened as his familiar tattooed visage entered. “Chakotay.”

“Captain,” he nodded to her in greeting but his usual smile didn't quite reach his eyes. 

Her own smile fell away as she glanced at the PADD he held in his hand and arched an eyebrow. “A problem, Commander?”

Chakotay followed her gaze and looked at the PADD as though he'd forgotten he was carrying it. “What? Oh, ah, no. Not exactly.” He shook his head slightly and approached the desk. “This is Paris' report on the incident.” He held it out to her but when she would have taken it from him, he hesitated to relinquish it.

“Commander?” she looked up at him, wondering what the 'not exactly' a problem was. He released the PADD and sank into one of the chairs opposite. His recently emptied hand came up to toy with his ear and she smothered a smile at the familiar gesture.

“Sorry, Captain.” He paused and opened his mouth as if to say more, then shut it abruptly. “I should go.” He stood, vacillated again, then turned toward the door.

Whatever was bothering her first officer was obviously something significant. “Chakotay.” She stilled him with her voice as she stood. “I was just about to have a coffee. Would you care to join me?” She knew he'd be able to read her invite to talk into the words. 

He nodded, a relieved smile lighting his face. “Tea, please, Kathryn.” 

She smiled in reply and went to retrieve their beverages from the replicator as he settled into the couch on the upper level. She handed his tea to him before setting her coffee on the low table and taking her own seat at the other end of the couch. She tucked one leg under her and turned so she was facing him. “Well?”

Chakotay took a long sip of his tea, then held the cup in his hands, staring at it intently. “I've been having . . . dreams.” She said nothing, waiting for him to continue. “About what happened.” She took a sip of coffee, still silent. “I'm not sure if they are fragments of hallucinations or memories of something that happened.” He took another sip of tea.

Kathryn nodded, taking a sip of her own drink. She'd been having her own . . . dreams. Although both Paris and the Doctor assured her nothing had happened, she wasn't ready to dismiss the images so easily. She was almost positive that she'd shot someone with a phaser. “What do you see, in these . . . dreams?”

He tugged his ear again, prompting another smile. “Ah, I'm in the brig, I think. There was phaser fire and someone else in the cell with me. And then I'm in sickbay.” He frowned, trying to fit the images together in his head. He was too distracted to notice Kathryn's slight start when he mentioned phaser fire.

“Tom was assigned to observe you after you and Tabor tried to kill each other when the Doctor had you both in sickbay.” 

He nodded, thoughtful. “But someone shot him, trying to get me out of the brig? I . . . did I hurt someone?” His brow furrowed as he tried to bring the memory into focus. The emotions that went with the images were chaotic; fear, anger, frustration, terror, desire . . . Most of them he could understand, but desire?

“Did the Doctor mention anything in his report?”

Kathryn's question pulled him from his ruminations. “No. But his report is unusually concise. He mentions the away team and posits that the imbalance was originally contracted by Tabor's contact with the animal. After that, though, he sticks exclusively to the symptoms and the steps he went through to develop an antidote.” 

Kathryn nodded and sipped her coffee. “Hmm, that does seem rather restrained. Usually he spends at least a page and a half expounding on the peculiarities of the case and the difficulty in determining an antidote. Perhaps, now that we're in regular communication with Starfleet, he's actually hoping to publish something.”

“Perhaps.” He considered, “Well, I suppose we couldn't really be held accountable. Tuvok certainly isn't reporting Tabor for assault.”

“No, I don't suppose anyone in that condition could be held responsible for their actions,” she agreed. Not even for shooting one's unarmed pilot to get to her 'mate.' She took the last gulp of coffee and set the cup down on the table. “I'm sure if it was important, the Doctor would have included it in his report.” She leaned forward and patted his knee. “I've got some more reports to read and you'd better go make sure that Mr. Paris isn't causing havoc on my bridge.” 

Chakotay nodded and stood, offering her a hand up. 

She took the assist with a smile. “Thank you, Commander.” She picked up their cups and took them to the recycler. She turned just as Chakotay stepped though the doors. “Oh, and Chakotay, I was trying to get into the brig, not get you out.” The doors closed with a snap and she heard a muffled thud from the bridge. 

El Fin


End file.
